


little paper heart

by ls201



Series: little plastic crown [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eating Disorders, F/M, Michael is a girl, Self-Harm, everyone's bad at relationships, luke is a girl, luke is bad at relationships, management is terrible, so is michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ls201/pseuds/ls201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 Seconds of Summer has finally made it big. Luke Hemmings, Michael Clifford, Ashton Irwin and Calum Hood have escaped Sydney and find themselves plastered on magazine covers everywhere. But fame isn't all it's cracked up to be. Just when the band thinks they have it all together, a "well-kept" secret emerges that will send their lives into a tailspin...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! "Little Paper Heart" is the sequel to "Little Plastic Crown," my first novel with these characters. I am so excited to be writing this and already have all 25 chapters planned out, woohoo! Due to the busy life of this account's co-owner, T, I will not have a beta for this story, so I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or nonsensical occurrences. 
> 
> There are parts of this story that may be triggering to some people. I will add any necessary trigger warnings in the notes at the beginning of every chapter, but if you are ever unsure of a chapter being safe for you to read, please comment below, and I'll give you my e-mail so we can talk about the contents of the chapter or so I can just tell you what goes on so you don't risk triggering yourself. Please stay safe everyone!
> 
> Thank you for any and all support of this story. I do this just for fun, but it means a lot to me when you guys comment, leave kudos and bookmark my stories. I see every single comment, every single kudos and every single bookmark, and they all mean so much to me! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. <3 
> 
> xo,  
> L

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for this chapter: talk of past self-harm/attempted suicide.  
> thank you for reading!

One

_And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways_

_-R U Mine?_

"So, Michael, how do you feel about shipping?” We all freeze in our places — Ashton stops fiddling with the holes in his Nirvana shirt; Calum ceases to jiggle his leg; and I become a Converse-clad statue, thumb resting on the cool metal of my lip ring, where it always goes when I’m nervous — and God knows interviews make me nervous. Michael, meanwhile, is frozen in an open-mouthed position. I mouth at her to mind the gap — an inside joke we’ve had between us ever since Mikey caught me staring at a hot guy on the Tube — and Michael’s jaw snaps shut. 

 

The interviewer’s still waiting for a response, eyes trained like a hawk on my beautiful, pink-haired best friend. Well, Mikey’s more than a beautiful, pink-haired best friend — she’s the technical founder of our band, 5 Seconds of Summer, and one of the main reasons why I’m sitting here now. Without Michael’s hard work and constant ass-kicking, 5SOS wouldn’t have made it out of her basement back home in Sydney, Australia. Two years later, and here I am, lead singer of a band that most reporters call “world-famous,” even though I still view it as the cozy little basement band 5SOS was at its inception. 

 

Michael bites her lip and shrugs. “I don’t think any of us really care, as long as it doesn’t get too crazy.” We all nod along with her, and although our interviewer’s clearly a little disappointed, probably hoping for something more controversial or encouraging, she moves on to the next question. We only have about five minutes left in the interview, but I’m already zoned out, lost in thought and reflections, observing every person in the room.

 

Sitting in the corner is Calum Hood, a best friend of mine and Michael’s since Year 7. A few months older than me, Calum turned 20 back in January, while I’ve got to wait until July. Calum’s always been the sensible, super-sweet one of the group, always giving wise advice and coming up with killer song lyrics. He’s also been hopelessly in love with Mikey since high school, and they got together right before Ashton and I did, when we were all (well, except for Ashton) 17 and 5SOS hadn’t been revived yet. Cal’s still the same guy he was back then; the only thing that’s changed about him is his physical appearance, and even those changes are minor. Yes, he styles his hair in a quiff now, put a stylish blonde streak in those gorgeous black waves, and has a six-pack that Ashton envies, but Calum’s personality has been left untouched by fame. He’s still the wise, clever, kind guy I’ve known since grade school.

 

Michael’s to Calum’s right. Born Michaela Clifford, my best friend since kindergarten prefers to go by “Michael” (or “Mikey” with her close friends), and she dyes  her hair a different color every month. Right now, her hair’s a vibrant cotton candy pink, and Ashton’s taken to calling her “Pinkie Pie” after the toy pony of the same hue. Mikey’s 20, going to be 21 in November, although her spunky, sassy personality can sometimes veer towards high-school territory. She used to party hard in high school, but after she started dating Calum, that pretty much calmed down — we think Mikey relied on alcohol and boys to fill a void in her life, though we’re not sure what that void is and don’t dare to ask. Our band’s guitarist, Michael kicked our butts in 5SOS’s early days, and was great with helping me keep up the band’s YouTube, Twitter and Facebook page when we revived it almost a year after our terrible Annandale gig.

 

Ashton’s to Calum’s left, and my right. Famous with our fans for his giggly personality, omnipresent smile and golden head of curls (as well as his penchant for bandanas, dimples deep enough to rival ocean trenches, and hilarious drumming faces), Ash is also my boyfriend of two years. Funny, supportive, sweet, and caring, Ashton’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. He’s our drummer, and damn, he is good at what he does — and I can’t complain about his fabulous biceps. Ashton will be 22 in July, and being the oldest member of the group, he tends to try to keep us in line, since Michael and Calum can get pretty wild when they want to. 

 

Ash and I met in a pretty extraordinary way — he saved me from my school bullies in a Starbucks, and gave me his number so he could check up on me later. I threw his number in the trash when he walked away, telling myself that I didn’t need a man to protect me. When Cal, Mikey and I went to a gig at a club later that night, Ashton was the lead singer of the band, and recognized me from our encounter at the mall earlier that day. I kept his number this time, and when Michael had a drunken revelation about making a band, Sober Michael decided to call Ashton to be our drummer, since his band had just broken up. Ashton accepted the position, and of course I was furious when I found out — after my ex-boyfriend, Alex, forced me into having sex with him multiple times, I had trust issues with men and didn’t really want to let any new guys into my life. Michael convinced me to give Ashton a try, and I surprised myself by becoming close friends with him. However, I could tell I was falling in love with Ashton, which was something I didn’t want. Things only went downhill from there.

 

After a radio interview that consisted of a game of Spin the Bottle gone wrong, Ashton confessed his feelings for me. I accidentally told him that I couldn’t trust him because he was him, even though I was just trying to say that it was because he was a guy and I had trust issues with guys. Ashton got mad and kicked me out of his car, and we weren’t friends for about a month. I got really depressed during that time period and started self-harming again, a habit I thought I’d conquered with Ashton’s help. A month after Ashton became my number-one enemy, 5SOS had a gig at the Annandale Hotel. It was a huge gig that was supposed to help us become well-known and move to America like we’d always dreamed. It didn’t go as planned.

 

The night before the gig, Michael and Calum took me clubbing. I got really drunk and, after encountering a stranger who gave me a bad flashback to Alex, I went back to the hotel before Michael and Calum. I was still partially drunk when a trashed Ashton came to visit me later that night, and we hooked up. When I woke up, I realized what had happened, and also realized we hadn’t used protection. While I went out to buy Plan B, Ashton left, and there was no sign of him when I got back. I was so angry at him that rehearsal went terribly, and Michael and Calum forced us to “talk it out” before the gig. That didn’t go well, and the gig was terrible. Michael was furious at me, Calum was disappointed, and Ashton continued to ignore me afterwards.

 

The next day, I went to Michael’s house to try to apologize. Mikey wasn’t interested in forgiveness, however, threw her friendship bracelet at me and told me to get out. I visited Calum seeking comfort, but when I found him talking and laughing with Ashton, I snapped. I went home and cut so deep that I nearly died. Calum and Ashton found me, and after the ambulance came and took me to the hospital, Ashton took off for a lucrative internship with Hi or Hey Records in London. 

 

I was upset to find out that Ashton had left when I had just essentially attempted suicide, but Michael, Calum and I repaired our friendship, and with the help of a therapist, I got out of my dark place and started feeling much better about myself and the people around me. I stopped self-harming and focused on writing songs. Still, Ashton’s absence bothered me, and my therapist, Dr. Marcia, insisted we talk about it. When I told her the full story, she recommended I go to London to see Ashton, just so I could have closure. I bought three plane tickets to London — one for me, one for Michael, and one for Calum — because I knew I wouldn’t make it through the trip without my best friends’ support. 

 

When we got to London, Michael and Calum hooked up the first night there. I was happy they were together, but more eager than ever to get Ashton back. When I visited Hi or Hey Records, there was only one woman there, who gave me a letter from Ashton. In the letter, Ashton told me that I’d be better off without him and to go back home, and I gave up on us — but when Michael turned the letter over, she saw that Ashton had left his address on the back, because he knew I was too stubborn to go that easily.

 

At Ashton’s apartment building, a girl spoke to me on the intercom. I thought he was dating another girl, so I started to leave, but Ashton chased after me and explained that she was his colleague, Sophie, who had come over to ask for advice on her girlfriend. We talked through our issues, right then and there, in the pouring rain, and Ashton came back to the hotel with me. I went over the situation with Michael and Calum, and we all decided that Ashton would go back to Sydney with us. 

 

We enjoyed our last few days in London together, and on the flight back to Sydney, I mulled over the idea of 5SOS. It wasn’t really something that had been discussed since the crash and burn that was the Annandale gig, but just like with Ashton, I needed closure — a definite “let’s end it” or “there’s still hope.” Ashton said that we could still make the band work, and suggested using my old YouTube account and turning it into a channel for 5SOS. 

 

Ashton’s suggestion worked. We gained more and more Australian fans, and then our true “beginning” happened. One day, Louis Tomlinson of the world-famous One Direction told his Twitter followers to check us out, and that was it for us. 5SOS exploded. Suddenly we had fans in Malaysia, France, Germany — places we’d never even been to. We released an EP, worked with singers and songwriters we’d admired as kids, and got to open for One Direction on one of their tours. Shortly after, our debut album was released, and was quite successful. We got a world tour of our own, and we’ve been exploding in popularity ever since.

 

“Luke? Luke, are you with us?” Ashton’s waving his hand in front of my face, and it jolts me out of my thoughts. The interviewer’s staring at me, a scowl distorting her pink-painted lips, and Calum and Mikey are already out of their seats, signaling that the interview probably just wrapped up. 

 

“Yeah,” I breathe, jumping out of my chair. “Sorry, didn’t get much sleep,” I apologize to the interviewer. A fake smile stretches her features as she murmurs cold pleasantries my way, and with a quick exchange of goodbyes, we’re out the door and in the safe refuge of the rental car.

 

“Hey, can we stop at Starbucks really quickly?” Michael asks our driver. He shakes his head.

 

“Sorry, but higher-ups told me to take you guys straight to the hotel,” he replies gruffly. Michael sighs, but thanks him anyways and rolls up the divider. 

 

“What’d you think of the interview?” I ask Ashton. “Girl who was interviewing us was kinda bitchy, in my opinion.” 

 

Ashton shrugs. “It was whatever. You were kind of distracting me, to be honest…” he murmurs in my ear. Ashton’s voice is low and husky, his breath cool and sweet on my cheek, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of our surroundings as his fingers trace my shoulder.

 

“Ashton,” I whisper. He ignores me, starting to press little kisses to my collarbone, and I glance to my right to see if Calum and Mikey have noticed Ash’s strange behavior yet. I’m shocked to see that Mikey’s essentially in the same situation as me; Calum’s practically got her in his lap. 

 

I draw the line when Ashton starts sucking on my neck. “Ashton, _stop it_ ,” I hiss, yanking up my shirt and gently pushing him off. He whines but respects his boundaries.

 

“Seriously, what is _up_ with you today?” I mutter, crossing my arms and staring at my feet. I can hear Michael snapping at Calum to stop with the PDA, and I have to wonder what’s wrong with our boyfriends. They’re acting strangely possessive, which isn’t like them.

 

When Michael’s successfully shut down Calum’s clingy ways, she comments, “Wow, why are you guys being so _touchy_ today? Jealous of someone?”

 

When Ashton mutters, “Yes,” my heart stops. _Does he know? He can’t know. There’s no way—-_

 

“What are you on about, Ashton?” Michael demands. 

 

“Well, that interviewer brought up the whole ‘shipping’ subject, and it just made me really jealous because I hate that other people think I’d be better off with someone other than Luke,” Ashton admits. “And I’m sure Calum feels the same way with you,” he adds. Calum nods, and Michael and I both roll our eyes.

 

“You guys have nothing to worry about,” I assure them. “Ashton, I love you more than I love black skinny jeans, which is obviously saying a lot, and Calum, I’m sure Michael has a similar metaphor based on her love for you.” Michael nods, compares her love for Calum to her love of hair dye, and the conversation moves on. But while my bandmates chat about the pattern of boring interviews we’ve recently given, my mind is still stuck on Ashton’s jealousy — because there’s something that only Michael and I know, something our boyfriends can never find out about. And if they do find out, 5SOS may be done for good this time.

 

During my last few months with Alex, I’d had a lot of nonconsensual sex. Eventually, it all became too much to handle, and I broke down. When Michael found out about Alex’s actions, she tried to comfort me in every way possible, since I was too scared to let anyone report him and refused to break up with him. One night, we got too drunk, and Michael had the brilliant idea to comfort me using sex. That night was the first of many casual hookups for Mikey and I. Although we stopped shortly before I broke up with Alex, there’s been an underlying sexual tension since, and we’ve become increasingly aware of it over the past few months.

 

Mainly, it’s stuff that Michael does that makes me think of those casual, half-drunken hookups. Some of it’s probably just toeing the fine line between “comfortable with each other” and “too comfortable,” like the time when Michael burst into my bedroom solely clad in her skimpiest panties. Michael’s other behaviors are a little more blatant, though. Just the other day, we all went to get ice cream, and Michael licked her cone so suggestively, I was sure a paparazzo would get a photograph and accuse us of being in a relationship. A few weeks ago, we all played a game of “Kill, Fuck, Marry,” and Michael said she would marry me, fuck me, and kill Ashton _and_ Calum. She passed it off as an immature joke, but I have to wonder if she was just pacifying Calum by saying that. She’d seemed pretty serious at the time, or at least until Calum got on her case about it.

 

Maybe I’m just misinterpreting Michael’s signals. Part of me hopes that’s the case, but another part of me hopes it’s not. I’m torn — stay in my safe, comfortable, supportive relationship with Ashton, or explore that sexual tension with Michael? Half the time, I’m sure I want to be with Ashton, and the other half, I’m just about ready to change my name to Luke Clifford. No matter the case, I want to get to the bottom of this issue and resolve it in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone involved — and preferably in a way that doesn’t include Ashton and Calum finding out. Michael and I never told our bandmates about our past hookups for a reason. We knew the drama that revelation would cause, and the topic was also pretty sensitive for us, so we just didn’t want to touch upon it. Now, I’m starting to regret not being fully honest with Ashton — I know if I tell him now, he’ll be even more upset than if I’d told him in the first place. He’ll probably wonder how I could have lied to him for two years straight… Oh, God.

 

_You’ll talk about this with Michael first thing tomorrow morning,_ I promise myself. _That way, you can figure out a solution for this whole thing, and Ashton will never have to know._ Satisfied with my vow, I breathe a sigh of relief and curl into Ashton’s side. He lets out a soft hum of appreciation and strokes my hair while I listen to his heart beat. The steady thump is soothing and relaxing, and there’s no better feeling in the world than having Ashton hold me in his arms and make me feel like I’m safe.

 

Suddenly, there’s a loud gasp from Michael and Calum’s side of the car. I sit up and look over to see Michael holding her phone, a shell-shocked expression on her face. An icy cold blooms in my chest, and I already know the answer to my question before I even ask it. “What’s wrong, Mikey?” I say hoarsely, dread settling in my bones. Calum and Ashton have whipped out their phones and are already checking our Google news alerts to see what the issue might be.

 

“My iCloud’s been hacked, and the information’s posted all over the news,” Michael wails, thrusting her phone into my hands. I scan the screen quickly, in disbelief at how much information the hackers were able to get. 

 

When I go to hand back Michael her phone, she stops me. “That’s not even the best part,” she says quietly. “Check the Daily Mail.” 

 

Fingers shaking, I do as Michael says, and my chest tightens at what I see. Splattered all over the front page of Britain’s largest tabloid are Michael’s private iMessage conversations. The first iMessages I see? 

 

The ones about our fling.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there! thanks for reading :) i apologize for any grammatical errors or nonsensical occurrences, i do not have a beta at the moment.
> 
> would you guys like me to post my playlist for this story once it's done? that's just an idea i've been thinking about, i do have my playlist on my computer but i wasn't sure if you guys would be interested in it.
> 
> trigger warnings for this chapter: none.
> 
> xo,  
> L

Two

_Look in my eyes when you say you love me_

_So I can see you lie to me_

_-Lie To Me_

The meeting with management the next morning is awkward, to say the least. We all sit in hard plastic chairs as a balding forty-year-old tries to figure out what the hell to do when an extremely popular pop punk band has just had two of its members outed as bisexual. 

 

Apparently Forty-Year-Old Balding Dude (or FYOB for short’s) solution is to shame Michael and I about it.

 

“You should’ve been more responsible,” he chides. “Fame comes with a price, and that price is the constant invasion of your privacy. Michael, you should’ve had a stronger iCloud password. Of course, you’ll be making a new account to ensure this doesn’t happen again, and we’ll give you a secure, hacker-proof password, just to err on the safe side of caution.” FYOBD then turns to me.

 

“Luke, why didn’t you tell anyone?” he sighs. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one here. If you and Michael had let us known about your little, ahem…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “If you had let us known about your little _tryst_ in the beginning, we could have been honest with the public or, better yet, gained access to Michael’s iCloud account to delete the incriminating messages.” FYOBD is glaring daggers at Mikey — but then again, so is Calum, while Ashton’s hazel eyes are burning holes in my cheek as I look down at the ground. 

 

“We could say it was a prank,” I suggest. “Or something fabricated by the hacker. I mean, iMessages are pretty easy to fake…” I trail off as the guy’s expression only sours more.

 

“There’s personal information in these messages that no one ever knew about except for your mums, who were some of the first people the journalists called when the story broke,” the man hisses. “So trying to lie to the public is essentially useless now. We’ll just have to come out with a statement claiming it was a drunken mistake — which hopefully is some version of the truth — and promising it won’t have any effect on the band’s music or the members’ relationships with one another.”

 

To my left, Ashton’s buried his face in his hands. He’s not crying, but I can hear him taking deep, slow breaths as he tries to process the information he’s heard. To my right, Michael looks like she wants to cry, the rosiness in her cheeks completely gone. Her jade green eyes are wet with tears and she reaches out to her right for Calum, but he pushes her away, denying her touch. Michael starts to sob.

 

As for me, I feel like the biggest fuck-up in the world. The conversation the tabloids have latched on to is from a year ago, when Michael first found out that people “shipped” us together. At the time, it freaked her out— she thought that someone might have found out about our Alex-era hookups, and she was hell-bent on telling Ashton and Calum before someone else did. I was aware of the potential consequences of this, and convinced Michael to stay silent. I’d never thought that her iCloud could hang on to the messages like this, or I would have had that conversation in person.

 

FYOBD lets out a long sigh and leans forward on his elbows. “Well, here’s what we’re going to do. Michael, as we just said, you’re going to get a new iCloud account and we’re going to give you a secure password to use. We’ll release a joint statement on Michael and Luke’s behalf to do damage control. Michael, Luke, you are to memorize this statement and be prepared to use it any time, just in case any paparazzi or interviewers get too nosy. Now, guys, I’ve got one last thing to show you before you leave.” The man bends over and rummages around for something in his briefcase. Finally, he pulls out a thick stack of papers and slaps them on the desk in front of us. “Take a look at these,” he instructs.

 

Ashton, Calum and Michael all look hesitant, already emotionally damaged enough for the day. I’m the first to pick up the stack of papers, and I flip through them quickly, gasping at what I see. Management has printed out screenshots from every social media site in existence, each screenshot detailing some kind of fantasy where Michael and I get together. They’re proof of a ship in our 5SOS fandom called “Muke,” a combination of Michael and Luke, obviously. While we were both aware of the ship’s existence, we didn’t know that it was so popular — over a million posts on Tumblr and Twitter. 

 

“This,” FYOBD says through gritted teeth, “is going to be a _huge_ problem for us. Some of these girls, no matter how many times you tell them you’re in committed relationships, they’re going to take the most arbitrary things and list them as ‘proof’ that you and Michael are together. Remember what happened with One Direction?” 

 

“But that was just a few people, our fans aren’t like that—” I try to cut in, but FYOBD doesn’t let me finish.

 

“I’m well aware of that, but even just a few people can cause an unbelievable amount of trouble for us. So here’s the new rule: When you’re in a committed relationship, or at least when everyone _thinks_ you’re in a committed relationship, don’t touch another band member,” FYOBD growls. “I don’t care if it’s just a playful game of Spin the Bottle—” Ashton visibly flinches at that— “you need to learn the meaning of personal space. Because the more photos that are released of you getting cozy with other people, especially bandmates, the more fans that will start thinking you’re not committed to your significant others. Got it?” We all nod. “Good.” 

 

“Alright, I’ll email you guys a copy of the statement once I’ve got it written up,” FYOBD announces. “We’re expecting you to memorize it and have it at the ready, as I mentioned earlier. Now go get some sleep, you’ve got a damage-control interview tomorrow.” 

 

As we leave the office and pile into the car, my phone dings with an e-mail. I open it and find management’s statement, already prepared in the short five minutes since we left FYOBD’s office. I glance over at Michael and see her turning her phone off; she’s clearly extremely upset by everything that’s happened. I can understand why — Calum’s refused to touch her, talk to her or even look at her for more than a nanosecond since the tabloids leaked our messages. Although Ashton’s understandably irritated with me, he’s still willing to talk to me, even if what he says is rather short and cold, and his fingers did brush mine for a few seconds during our meeting with FYOBD. 

 

I scan the statement quickly, eager to have it memorized so we can do “damage control” and get this whole thing behind us. 

 

** Subject: Hacked iCloud/Michael & Luke Relationship Statement **

** To: Michael Clifford [mclifford@5sos.com]; Luke Hemmings [lh@5sos.com] **

** From: Management [management@5sos.com] **

** Here is the joint statement concerning the leaked iMessages between Michael Clifford and Luke Hemmings. Management will release this statement at noon today. Luke and Michael are to use this statement whenever a paparazzo, interviewer, or fan asks them about their past “relationship.” Please have this memorized. Ashton and Calum will be sent  ** ** modified versions of this statement for them to use. The statement is attached below: **

 

** JOINT STATEMENT CONCERNING MICHAEL CLIFFORD AND LUKE HEMMINGS “RELATIONSHIP”  **

** As you already know, Michael Clifford’s iCloud was recently hacked, and the contents of her iCloud were leaked to the press by the hacker. Some of  ** ** the content leaked to the press included private, personal iMessage conversations between Michael and her bandmate, Luke Hemmings. Luke  ** ** and Michael have been best friends for years, and are nothing more than that, but it is true that Michael and Luke did engage in a “friends with benefits” relationship to help Luke cope with an abusive relationship. This  ** ** relationship did not last for more than a few months, and ended shortly before Luke broke up with the abuser. Luke and Michael have no feelings  ** ** for each other whatsoever, and remain loyal and committed to their boyfriends, Ashton Irwin and Calum Hood. They ask that you stop “shipping” them together and that you respect their privacy at this time. **

 

Feeling sick to my stomach, I lock my phone and turn it over in my lap, no longer willing to look at it. My heart is pounding because I know even though the statement says “Luke and Michael have no feelings for each other whatsoever,” that may not be entirely true — and tonight, I’m going to find out. 

∞

_Ashton’s Point of View_

After that disastrous meeting with one of management’s representatives, I have to go out for a walk to calm my nerves. I’ve never been in a situation like this, and I have no idea how to handle it. I’m angry that Luke didn’t tell me this before, but at the same time, I understand why she kept it a secret. I know in my heart she’d never cheat on me, but I still can’t help but be a little jealous of Michael. Mikey’s a flirtatious one, and if she and Luke get too drunk again, who knows what could happen…

 

_No._ I shake my head in an attempt to get the thought out of my head. Luke loves me. Luke would never do that. Luke’s totally, fully, 100% committed — 

 

My phone buzzes with a text, interrupting my thoughts. It’s a message from Calum. _Can we meet @ Starbux 2 talk abt Michael & Luke? _

 

I quickly type back a “yes” and head back to the hotel. Calum’s waiting in the Starbucks, already having ordered our drinks — an iced coffee for me, a coffee frappuccino for him. When he sees me, Calum waves and smiles, though the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I know he’s been hurt by this; Calum and Michael seemed like the perfect match, and it’s probably hard for Calum to fathom that Michael would lie to him about something like this, because they’ve never had problems with their relationship. I don’t think they’ve ever even had a serious argument. Then again, Luke and I haven’t had a problem since we finally got together, so I’m really not sure how to analyze any of this.

 

I sit down across from Calum and take the drink, thanking him for his generosity. “So, what’s up, Cal-Pal?” I ask, sipping on my iced coffee. 

 

Calum sighs, a loose strand of hair falling in his face. He blows it away, sadness settling over his features as he prepares to get serious. “I just don’t know what to do, man,” he admits. “Like, I love Mikey so much but…” Tears fill his eyes, and Calum angrily swipes them away. He glances down at the table for a moment, composing himself, before sniffling and looking back up at me. Just the sight of Calum so upset is like a punch to the stomach; he looks like a sad puppy. 

 

“I can’t believe she would lie to me,” Calum whispers. “It’s just not like her, Ashton. Michael’s usually so straightforward with everything, and this just came out of, like… _nowhere_.” Calum’s voice cracks on the last part, and I reach across the table and pat him on the shoulder, not caring what the paparazzi around us might have to say. 

 

“Everyone makes mistakes, Calum,” I tell him. “And yeah, this was a pretty big mistake on Mikey and Luke’s part, but we have to give them a second chance. They’ve given us second chances before, and we have to forgive them and try to move on. They’re not interested in each other, so we have nothing to worry about, man. But we’ll keep an eye out, just in case.” 

 

“Yeah,” Calum says hoarsely, shaking hands wrapped around his coffee. “We’ll just keep an eye out.” 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i've worked hard this weekend and already have three chapters done! whoa haha. 
> 
> this chapter is pretty short. only trigger warning for this chapter is slight violence.
> 
> xo,  
> L

Three

_Humans aren’t gonna behave_

_As we think we always should_

_-Savages_

After our “damage-control” interview, we head to the studio to record. I’m exhausted; I barely got any sleep last night, my guilty weighing too heavily on me to allow any real rest. I know I’ve hurt my best friends thanks to my own selfish desires, and that kills me inside.

 

When we pull up to the studio, paparazzi swarm around the car like a disturbed hive of bees. As we get out of the car, Ashton puts his arm around me and tells me to keep our heads down — a sweet gesture, and a gesture that I definitely don’t deserve. Michael’s struggling through the crowd, Calum far ahead of her and our bodyguards having difficulty managing the whole mess. I want to go over and help her, but I know management will kill me if I do, and besides, I don’t want to shrug off Ashton’s act of kindness, so I keep moving forward. 

 

Then trouble starts. One paparazzo gets the great idea to start shouting questions in my face, and, inspired, the rest join in. The questions aren’t normal, run-of-the-mill topics either — they’re asking me if I’m a lesbian, if I’m in the closet, if Ashton’s my fake boyfriend, and other awful inquiries. The whole time, Ashton’s grip on my shoulder is tightening, and I can hear him taking deep breaths as he struggles to maintain his composure.

 

When one greasy-haired guy yells, “Luke, Luke! Does Ashton just not satisfy you in bed, is that why you’re secretly hooking up with Michael?” Ashton loses it. He rips his arm away from my shoulder and, before anyone can stop him, balls his hand into a fist and swings it into the offending paparazzo’s face. I barely have time to register the crack of bone ringing in the air before one of our bodyguards rushes over and tears Ashton away from the guy. 

 

Ashton’s panting, clutching at his bloodied fist, while the paparazzo is moaning on the ground, clutching his nose and accepting tissues from other paparazzi. I hear the wail of police sirens from a few miles away and curse under my breath. Someone’s called 911. 

 

So much for damage control.

 

∞

“Well, the good news is that your militant little drummer boy won’t be going to jail,” FYOBD sighs. After he came to the jail to bail Ashton out, we held an impromptu meeting in one of the hotel’s conference rooms. Calum, Ashton and I are situated on plastic folding chairs, while Michael’s sitting Indian-style on the floor, scrolling through Twitter to see what’s being said about the fight.

 

“That’s great,” Ashton grumbles, holding an ice pack to his fist. He bruised a knuckle punching the loudmouth paparazzo, so now he needs to ice it for a few days. 

 

“You should sound happier, Irwin,” FYOBD snaps. “We had to pay your _victim_ a pretty penny to convince him not to press charges — and that still doesn’t guarantee he won’t say anything to his friends, who may sell a cover story on it to TMZ. The higher-ups are rushing to get some confidentiality agreements out, but who knows if that’ll happen in time.” FYOBD leans forward, so close to Ashton’s face that he grimaces. 

 

“So here’s the deal,” FYOBD continues. “5 Seconds of Summer needs to clean up their image — and that’s not just management talking, that’s millions of parents around the world talking. If you wanna sell those concert tickets, you better become 5 Seconds of Wholesome, and _fast_.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his briefcase and waves it in Ashton’s face. “Here, take a look at your schedule — and feel free to read it out loud, since you’ll all receive a definite copy later tonight.” 

 

Lips twisted in a scowl, Ashton reads over the schedule, and clears his throat to go over it out loud. “Basically, we’re getting more tour dates, and we’re completely booked for the next four months — if we don’t have a concert, we’ve got an interview or some other form of good PR stunt,” he summarizes. 

 

Michael and Calum groan and complain, but FYOBD’s having none of it. He insists that if we just keep working hard, everyone will forget our past little “incidents” soon enough. 

 

As FYOBD chatters on with Michael and Calum, Ashton and I exchange a look, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing — _this is not going to be good_. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought i'd posted this before but i guess not? 
> 
> i've been on a bit of a hiatus from little paper heart. i've been working on other stories and just enjoying the summer with family. however, it's definitely time to get back to this story.
> 
> as always, thank you for reading!

Four

_It’s a risk but babe, I need the thrill_

_-Sleeping With A Friend_

With our busy new schedule, it’s difficult to find time to relax. We usually only have free time at night, and we _should_ be sleeping, but Calum and Michael suggest clubbing to ease the stress, and Ashton and I have a hard time turning that down. Soon, our clubbing turns into a nightly routine — and I know it can’t be healthy for us, but we need _some_ source of release. It’s hard being away from home for so long, and management is working us beyond belief. Clubbing helps distract us from that.

 

About a month and a half after the paparazzo incident, Calum suggests that he and Ashton have a “guys’ night.” Michael and I do agree that they need some male bonding time, so we send them off to the pub while we stay in our hotel room and have our own girls’ night. We rent _Pitch Perfect_ on Pay-Per-View and order the unhealthiest room service possible, complete with Mikey’s favorite — truffle fries. 

 

It’s nice to get some time to just chill and relax with my best friend. We’ve had an awkward past few months, there’s no denying that, but we’re not going to let it ruin our friendship; it’s survived worse things than a little bit of sexual tension.

 

That doesn’t mean I don’t get nervous when Michael pulls out a bottle of vodka from her suitcase. “Whipped cream flavored,” she says with a wink. “Your old high school favorite.” I cringe, thinking back on the terrible orange soda and vodka combinations Mikey used to serve me. “Want a taste?” She grabs a glass and pours a bit of vodka into it, holding it out to me.

 

Management has worn me out. I’m exhausted and stressed. Emotions are running high and anything resembling logic is totally gone. My heart is now ruling over my head. I take the glass.

 

After an exciting drinking game (drink every time Aubrey acts like a bitch; drink every time Becca pulls off eyeliner better than you; drink every time someone’s boob gets touched) and a few rounds of “Never Have I Ever,” Michael and I are completely trashed. The room is spinning, my mind’s buzzing and all I can think about right now is _how fucking hot_ Michael looks in Calum’s ratty Nirvana t-shirt. 

 

_Calum._ Guilt races through my mind at the thought of my other best friend, but that notion disappears instantly when Michael’s lips meet mine.

 

∞

_Michael’s Point of View_

To avoid suspicion, Luke heads back to her hotel room at 12:30. Calum and Ashton get back at 1, having just missed our valiant attempt at a clean-up. The room was a mess of truffle fries, vodka-scented cups, and various pieces of clothing, but with Luke’s help, I got it all sorted out — well, everywhere but the bathroom. But we didn’t go in the bathroom, so it’s all good.

 

Calum’s not quite as drunk as I expected, though when he walks through the doorway, he immediately announces he has to piss. I just laugh and curl up in bed, waiting for him to come out so we can cuddle. My limbs are still tingling from my earlier encounter with Luke, and I’m still a little drunk from the vodka, but thinking of that just makes my chest heavy with guilt, so I ignore it. 

 

When I hear a loud curse coming from the bathroom, I think that maybe Calum’s just gotten pee all over the toilet seat or something stupid like that.

 

Turns out I’m the only stupid one here.

 

Calum comes storming out with a pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles panties that I instantly recognize as Luke’s. _Fuck_. _Guess we_ did _hook up in the bathroom._ “What the hell is this?” he demands. 

 

“New panties,” I offer. “Target was having a sale—” Calum sees through my lie before I’m even done.

 

“Michael, you’ve _never_ liked Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” he growls. “And even if you did, you’re too goddamn proud to put them on your fucking underwear. So whose are these?”

 

“Calum, I swear to God they’re from Target,” I plead.

 

“Show me the receipt,” he hisses. 

 

I shut up.

 

“Were you hooking up with someone while I was gone?” Calum cries, throwing the panties to the floor. He sinks into a nearby chair, running his hands through his hair. “Jesus, Michael, I thought we were done with the lies—” 

 

Calum stops. The right neurons have fired and all the wires have crossed in his head and he’s finally figured it out. “You were with Luke,” he whispers. He sounds heartbroken at first, but the sadness quickly turns to anger as Calum processes the information. “Oh my fucking god, _you hooked up with your best friend while I was out_!” Calum’s chest is heaving, his face gone bright red, and he scrambles to pull his phone out of his jean pocket. Realizing what he’s about to do, I throw the covers off and rush over, desperately trying to pry the phone from his hands. There’s a brief power struggle, but Calum wins.

 

Watching him dial the number, I try one last, desperate tactic. “Calum, please don’t call Ashton,” I beg. “I am _so_ sorry and you deserve so much better and you can break up with me if you want, but _please_ don’t tell Ashton. He deserves to hear it from Luke herself.” 

 

Calum pauses, looking up from the phone. Seeing a possible out, I continue, “After all, it’s their relationship, not ours to meddle in—”

 

“He deserves to know,” Calum snaps, cutting me off, and before I can fully register what’s happening, he presses ‘Dial’.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in forever and that's super embarrassing, sorry guys, but the writing bug hit me again and here I am! No trigger warnings for this chapter. Enjoy and thanks for reading :)  
> xo,  
> L

Five

_When love becomes_

_The one thing you can’t trust_

_-When the Sky Fell_

"Hello?" Ashton picks up, cheery and sunny, and it’s all I can do not to fall through the floor. 

 

“Yeah, hey, Ash, it’s Cal. Hold on a second, let me go somewhere private where we can talk…” Shooting a dirty look over his shoulder, Calum heads into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. I collapse onto the bed with a weary sigh. Yet again, it’s been proven that I am terrible at keeping secrets.

 

∞

_Luke’s Point of View_

Ashton hangs up the phone, and the moment his eyes lock with mine, I know I’m in trouble.

 

“Luke, did you cheat on me with Michael?” Ashton whispers brokenly. I don’t have it in me to lie anymore.

 

“Yes,” I choke out, a lump forming in my throat. Ashton lets out something like a whimper, or maybe a strangled sob, but all I know is it’s the sound of utter despair, and it makes a million tiny knives stab into my heart.

 

Ashton’s frozen in his spot next to the tiny desk, callused drummer’s hands wrapped around his phone. He takes a few deep breaths before saying slowly, “I thought we were better than this, Luke.” When I don’t give a response, he continues, “I thought we wouldn’t ever lie to each other again. I understood the Michael fling, I get that you didn’t feel comfortable being out and wanted to put it in the past or whatever. But going back and doing that _again_? Luke, I didn’t agree to an open relationship. I agreed to a commitment, a closed, loving relationship where we could always trust each other. And after all we’ve been through, you’re throwing it all away on a casual fling?” 

 

Ashton’s panting heavily now, face flushed with anger, tears welling in those beautiful hazel eyes. Ice is threading through my veins, and the only thing I can think to say is _I’m sorry_ , which I know would only serve to anger Ashton more at this point. I watch as Ashton walks over to the bed and crouches in front of me, so his eyes meet mine. “Well, there’s only one liar in this relationship, and it’s not me,” Ashton spits. “So please know that I’m being completely honest when I say that I can’t even look at you right now, Luke. What you have done to our relationship disgusts me, and what you have done to Michael and Calum’s relationship disgusts me.”

 

Finished with his speech, Ashton stands back up and grabs his jacket and a key to the room. Slinging the jacket over his shoulder, he moves to the door, pausing for a moment only to call, “Don’t wait up. I have no interest in cuddling with a cheater.” 

 

∞

In spite of Ashton’s advice, I do wait up. Sure, I put on my pajamas and curl into the covers and _pretend_ to be asleep, but under the guise of a sleeping face, my heart is pounding, palms sweating and mind racing a million miles per hour with questions. I don’t know if I’ve effectively just ended my relationship with Ashton, or if I’ve ruined another relationship a few doors down. All I can think is _stupid stupid stupid, dumb dumb dumb decision_ , and my wrists are itching, but thankfully Ashton hides all the razors when we’re not using them, and I’m in no mood to go out into the rainy night and buy some fresh ones.

 

Ashton doesn’t come back that night, and I finally fall asleep at three-thirty. When my alarm goes off at five-thirty, it’s a struggle to get out of bed, and I move around the room in slow-motion, getting dressed in the kind of haze that can only come from two hours of sleep.

 

The car ride to our interview that morning is painfully awkward. Ashton refuses to speak to me, and Calum won’t even look at Michael. Guilt settles in my chest, a nasty weight that does an excellent job at making me feel emptier than ever.

 

The next few weeks are horrendous. I’m like a shell of myself, guilt eating me alive until I wonder if there will be anything left of me, Luke Hemmings, 5SOS singer and fuck-up extraordinaire. I go through interviews blank-faced, replying to questions with automatic responses spoon-fed to me by management. I give up my favorite lattes for straight shots of expresso — I’m not getting much sleep these days. I transition between stages of not feeling anything at all and feeling far too much — last Tuesday, a fan handed me a scrapbook of my relationship with Ashton, and I accepted it with a wide grin and carried on like it was nothing. Wednesday, management emailed us the room assignments for the next few weeks, and when I saw Ashton had officially switched to rooming with Calum, my chest had a dull ache all day, and I cried whenever I was left alone for longer than five minutes. Our hair and makeup team had to touch up my eyes five times that day because I just couldn’t stop. 

 

And now, it’s October. It’s been three weeks since Ashton left me. Three weeks of waking up and not knowing if it’s going to be a bad day or a worse day (there are no good days when Ashton’s gone). Three weeks of listening to Michael’s sobs every night, when she thinks I’ve fallen asleep or I’ve got my earbuds in ( _it’s your fault, Luke_ ). Three weeks of Calum barely talking to me and Ashton refusing to look at me. Three weeks of hell. 

 

We’re currently in London as part of our publicity tour — an appearance on Chatty Man with Alan Carr, a radio interview and acoustic session on BBC One, and a quick catch-up with Top of the Pops and Bliss magazines. Our flight arrived at 12 AM this morning — it’s 6 right now — and today we just have our interviews with the magazines, so I’d call it a fairly relaxed day. Thank God — we’re going to have to be fully alert and awake to be able to fake some kind of good camaraderie on Chatty Man, and there is no way we’d be able to do that today, not with our severe cases of jet-lag. 

 

I shower and throw on a pair of jeans, band shirt and a cardigan. I’m feeling self-conscious about my scars today; the urge to cut has been stronger than ever, but I haven’t given in yet, scared that management will find out and kick me out of the band. When we were first signed, they made it very clear that if I were to have another “slip-up,” I’d at least be put on probation. After all, parents don’t exactly want to buy their children CDs if they think the kids are gonna idolize a lead singer who slices herself up during bathroom breaks. 

 

By the time I’ve dried my hair, piled on as many bracelets as possible, and put on enough makeup to make myself look somewhat alive, Michael’s started to wake up. Getting up is an entire process for Mikey; she has to have five minutes to even fully wake, then five minutes to get out of bed, and then another five to clear her mind of that sleepy haze. But I can’t stand another fifteen minutes in this room with her — I don’t think I could even stand another five seconds. Shoes in my hand and room key in my back pocket, I slip out of the room, gently closing the door behind me. 

 

Halfway to the elevator, I realize I’ve left my phone. _Crap_. Hopefully Michael’s still going through her process. I sneak back into the room and start searching for my phone, though it’s difficult to do so without the light on. Michael’s still in bed — I actually think she’s fallen back asleep. 

 

I finally find my phone on the bathroom counter, where I must have left it while I was blowdrying my hair. Relieved, I clutch it to my chest and tiptoe towards the door. My hand’s curling around the door handle when I hear someone’s voice in my ear. “Leaving so soon?” 

 

It’s Michael. I turn back around, blood running cold. All I wanted was a somewhat peaceful morning where I could go down to the hotel café, buy a muffin, read a book on my phone — I don’t know, anything better than staying in a hotel room with the best friend whose relationship I destroyed, the girl that I used to destroy my own relationship. Michael cries every night, and it’s my fault. Calum won’t look at either of us anymore, and it’s my fault. Ashton tweets song lyrics about being betrayed until management makes him deleted them, Ashton won’t talk to me, Ashton’s fucking heartbroken, and it’s all my fault.

 

And now I’m staring straight at Michael, looking her in the eyes for the first time in weeks. Even when she’s still half-asleep and with a terrible case of cotton candy bedhead, she’s gorgeous, all rosy lips and vibrant eyes that are like chips of jade set in her face. “I heard you getting up,” Mikey continues. “I may have a hard time getting up in the morning, but I’m not deaf or blind.” 

 

“Sorry,” I whisper half-heartedly, unsure of what else to say. I wonder how long Michael’s noticed me sneaking out in the mornings. Has it hurt her? Does she think I, too, can no longer stand to be around her for longer than a few minutes? She wouldn’t be believing in a lie; it’s true that being alone with her for more than ten minutes makes my chest constrict and my head throb with all the memories of mistakes past. But I hate to consider that I’ve been contributing even more to Michael’s nightly tears than I thought.

 

“Why do you leave every morning?” Michael asks, stepping forward and closing the space between us. I can smell the scent of her, the amber and sandalwood perfume she’s worn since she was 15, and it’s like fireworks going off in my chest. She’s so near, and I’m so lonely, and don’t I deserve to be with her? Is it so bad to want to be with her?

 

“I miss you,” Michael murmurs, and then my lips are on hers and everything is right with the world. I taste bubblegum on my tongue and her skin is _so_ soft and then we’re falling into bed like nothing ever happened, and the only thing I can think is _Damn you’re selfish Luke Hemmings but who cares when selfish feels this good_. 

 

∞

I’m glad we got up early, because it means that I get to have one hour of Michael’s body on mine and feeling more whole than I’ve felt in weeks. Life isn’t lonely when I’m with her; it’s nice to feel loved. We’re not anything deep and meaningful like she was with Calum or I was with Ashton — but we make each other whole, so in the end, does it even matter if we’re not a storybook couple?

 

After our brief fling, Michael takes a shower and I get dressed again. We head downstairs at separate times, lest Calum and Ashton get too suspicious. It feels good to have a little secret like this, something that makes me and Michael feel better and can’t hurt Calum and Ashton because they don’t know it. I go through the rest of the day happier than I’ve been in a long time, light on my feet and answering the interviewers’ questions with a smile and giggles. Michael’s more subdued, probably because Calum still shoots daggers at her when the interviewer’s not looking.

 

Over the next few days, Michael and I continue our little _rendezvous_ when Calum and Ashton think we’ve gone to bed. I’ve never felt better, and I can tell it’s helping Michael, too; the rosiness in her cheeks has come back to play, and her eyes aren’t so empty anymore. Calum’s more sour than ever, and Ashton’s never been so quiet, but who cares? It was their choice to leave us, so Michael and me, we get to be selfish if we want to.

 

It’s Friday night when Michael and I finally make it official. The room smells like sex; Michael’s in the shower, and I’m lounging on the bed, scrolling through Twitter, replying to fans’ tweets and favoriting some particularly funnily-captioned pictures of fifteen-year-old me. Then I get a notification that I’ve been tagged in a picture, so I go and look at it. The photo makes me smile; it’s an old snap of me and Mikey, 18 and on tour with One Direction. We’re bright-eyed and grinning, arms around each other and laughing at something. We look _happy_.

 

Then I see the caption that goes with the photo, and I freeze.  _“Don’t try to tell me they’re not in love #Muke_ ,”  it reads. The tweet’s got 100,000 retweets and 150,000 likes, so obviously at least some of our fans agree. _But what do they even get out of that photo? What has them so convinced that Michael and I are in love?_ Curious, I re-examine the photo, searching for any signs of adoration or infatuation. And after a few moments, yeah — I can kind of see it. I’m staring at Michael like she’s the only person in the room, and Mikey’s blushing, her cheeks a beautiful dusty rose in the picture. 

 

Now I’m intrigued. “Muke” has been a phenomenon in the 5SOS fandom for a long time — but what even started this? What made people think we were dating, or that we should date? I want to find out.

 

Fifty Tumblr blogs and twenty Instagram accounts later, I have some semblance of an idea as to why so many of our fans want me to date Michael, or think I am. Apparently a lot of things about our interactions with each other “show two people who want to be or are engaged in a relationship,” to quote one particularly professional fan. People have had psychologists, body language experts, and anthropologists study us, and they all claim that we’re strongly attracted to one another and seem to be hiding something from others. 

 

And suddenly, the voice in my head has a great idea. _Why not date Michael? Everyone else seems to think you two would be perfect together._

 

And for once, I decide to listen to it. When Michael comes out of the shower, skin flushed pink from the hot water, I sneak up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She hums contentedly as I pepper kisses up and down her neck, but laughingly nudges me away when I reach her collarbone. “Luuuke, I just took a shower,” Mikey whines, yanking her towel up. 

 

“Alright, alright,” I giggle, perching on the edge of the bathtub and watching as she starts brushing out her hair. The cotton candy pink has faded, and her natural blonde roots are showing; I’ve heard talk that she wants to dye it candy-apple red or jet black again, she can’t decide which. Personally, I’d love to see her in black again — it makes her eyes pop.

 

“So, I have an idea,” I say. Michael turns and looks at me, raising an eyebrow; the silver studs of her piercing gleam in the light. “I want to take you on a date,” I continue, “and I know it sounds so cheesy and dumb, but I want to take you on a date, and I want to bring you to a fancy restaurant where we can eat all the bread we want and order like fifty bottles of wine and where you’ll look so damn pretty in the candlelight. I want to be disgustingly romantic with you and I’m sorry if that turns you off, but I want to take you out and show the whole world that I want to be with you. And if you want to keep doing this hook-up thing or, whatever this is…” I stop for a second, then shrug my shoulders. “Then I guess I’ll live through it.” 

 

Michael’s hairbrush lays forgotten on the counter as she stares at me. “Luke Hemmings, I’d be honored to go on a date with you,” she smiles, her grin spreading from ear to ear. “On one condition.” 

 

I gulp. “Okay, what?”

 

“We go for Italian. I need to see if you’ll still be able to kiss me after sixty pounds of garlic bread.” 

 


End file.
